Crane
by Ushinatta Neko
Summary: She wove and wove, until her fingers bled and bruised. All for the one she loved. — LenKu, tragedy.


**So um yes, it's tragedy, and no, I don't think it's up to standards. *cry***

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

* * *

_Little flakes of white fly up from where the elegant crane crash-lands._

* * *

The aroma of tea leaves spread throughout the room, and Miku tilted her head, watching the leaves of the thin bamboo outside (they whispered to each other, to her, of unknown things, of unknown discoveries, and Miku let a smile grace her soft lips). Her dainty hand never ceased stirring the green liquid in the clay teacup, and only stopped to cover the top when her right hand lifted the earthenware pot to pour some more tea into the cup. She shifted her legs, standing up with the cup and pot on a tray in her hands, and her kimono made little shuffling sounds as she moved slowly to the middle of the tearoom.

He was sitting there, concentration in his eyes (they weren't exactly cerulean, and weren't exactly emerald, either, Miku found out) as he practiced calligraphy (the Chinese word for "dragon" was already halfway done, and he was stuck at the third stroke, fingers gripping the brush so tightly that it might break, and Miku reminded herself to chastise him later for that). The girl gently set the tray on the tatami mats beside him, careful not to spill any of the jasmine tea (expensive they were, and only two cans left in the kitchen). Len set down his brush, and raised a cup to his lips, smiling a gentle smile at her, and Miku felt her cheeks warm.

"The tea you make still tastes gorgeous as ever," Len sipped the tea, stating matter-of-factly. Miku blushed even more at the compliment and her traitorous heart beat faster, ducking her head to escape his heated gaze (oh, if he knew the things he did to her!). The olden tatami mats were suddenly more interesting than his eyes, and Miku followed the straw strands, eyes observing how they interlocked and weaved with each other. He grinned at her, "do you want some tea as well?" and Miku accepted. She took another teacup, and poured the tea into it, sipping at the tea. Her gaze never wavered from the straw mats, blush still staining her cheeks (_go away, please! _Miku begs).

Len must have noticed, for he started mindless chatter, and Miku would later smack her forehead for that. "So, you know, last Friday, Kaito..."

Miku soon followed in his boyish laughter, her twinkling voice mixing with his deeper one. The tea leaves swirled, then settled in the two cold teacups (forgotten, Miku later realized, and sighed when she poured them away).

* * *

_I hurry forward (poor crane, falling down like that, isn't it painful?) to the site, boots sinking into the soft snow._

* * *

Miku raked her slim digits through his flaxen hair, massaging his scalp and Len sighed in satisfaction at the tingly feeling. His head was a comfortable weight on her lap, and she dared not move her legs for fear of disrupting his rest even though there were faint pins and needled stabbing her feet. Len shifted his head to look at her, sleepiness reflected in his eyes (and one day, Miku wished, one day she would be reflected there too), suddenly aware of her slight discomfort as he gazed into her eyes.

"Are your legs numb?" And then, without her replying, he sat back, the cotton kimono folding and creasing along with his movements. Miku gingerly unfolded her legs, moaning slightly when her legs were free from their stiff posture, and stretched, her kimono sleeves sliding down her pale arms, tickling her faintly. Then, she patted her thighs and Len leaned back down, thumping down like a silly child. Miku giggled and winced slightly, her legs still not quite recovered from the numbness. She resumed running her fingers through his hair, revelling in the sensation and they were quiet for a while, just listening the sounds of nature and watching the garden from the small porch.

"I love your beautiful fingers," Len sighed out, cerulean eyes closed (for lack of a better description, Miku decided) and brows relaxed. Miku stiffened in surprise and her hands stopped for a fraction of a second, before resuming their stroking.

"Well then, if my fingers aren't beautiful anymore, would you..." She trailed off, ultramarine eyes saddened by the thought (if only he knew who she really was...) and Len blinked open his eyes, lashes not quite allowing the separation of his eyelids. Miku smiled down at him, sorrowful eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well," Len yawned and turned his body to the side, head shifting along. "I'd still love you."

And as Miku's cheeks stained with a scarlet red (why did he have to say that? Miku slapped her cheeks and huffed), Len grinned up at her with his eyes closed. He motioned for her to continue her administrations to his hair, and she obliged with a resigned but crooked smile.

* * *

_The poor thing's wing was hurt, so I brought it back home with me to heal it._

* * *

Miku hummed as she did the laundry.

It was a bright day out; the sun grinned down at her and the light breeze kissed her flushed cheeks, stroked her long hair and made it hell for her to hang the clothes properly. It whipped her long aqua hair in front of her face as she struggled to keep those irritating (not that Miku didn't like her hair, she did, very much, but not right now!) strands out of her vision. The woven basket in her hands slipped and fell to the ground as she tried her best to tuck her hair behind her ears, but to no avail. Miku gave up on keeping her ponytails and resorted to spinning her hair into a braid, aqua locks weaving and intertwining with each other as she made quick and sloppy work of her hair, eager to finish hanging the laundry.

Len's eyes traced every deft movement her hands made. He liked watching her while Miku hung the laundry (which was _often_), because she would hum and her voice would lilt and skip at all the right parts, forming a harmonious melody that somehow blended into the breezy surroundings. He liked watching her while Miku stood on her tiptoes, straining her arms to reach the clothing line tied to the branches of two trees, because then it would leave her arms stretched and waist completely free and then her could do his thing —

"—Kya!" Miku squealed when she felt two rather large hands tickle and poke at her sides, laughter already bubbling up and spilling out of her lips as her arms twitched, and the hakama she was pinning to the line fell to the ground. She was going to pick it up, but the hands never ceased their tickling, and Miku ended up doubling over in laughter, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Len grinned behind her, but his expression then changed into a look of shock as she turned around, laughing too hard for any sound to squeak out, and then she _tickled_ him back.

Len fell to the ground, rolling around in the lush grass chuckling, and Miku landed on top of him, determined to get back at him for what happened a minute earlier, her tickling relentless, while bright peals of laughter continued spilling out of her lips, this time caused by his agony. The blonde laughed so hard that his brain formed no more coherent thoughts, all cells concentrated on laughing his head off. "S-stop!" Len tried to push her wandering hands away from his sides, eyes still tightly closed, and failed (Miku was surprisingly strong, he found out).

"Promise never to tickle me again?"

"I-I p-promi-promise!"

His answer was breathless, his body curled up like a prawn to escape Miku's cruel poking. The reply satisfied Miku (though she knew he wouldn't keep to it after all) and she stopped, elbows propping her body above his, and she flushed, suddenly noticing how close they were. Len noticed it too, and he smiled gently, a large hand coming up to cup her heated cheek, and Miku could literally feel steam coming out of her ears. She had to escape, or she would suffer a heart attack because he just...just made her feel _that way_, and Miku (even though she was here to thank him) was a little jittery.

"I-I have to hang the laundry," she stuttered out, eyes half-lidded in an attempt to block out his passionate eyes, and the hand cupping her cheeks slowly slid away (slid away it did, but not before tracing her lips and stroking her cheek), coming to a rest beside her own. Miku awkwardly stood up, knees shaking (she hoped he won't notice) and held out a small hand for him to take. Len pulled her hand and stood up, brushing the dirt and grass stains from his kimono and rubbed his neck, cheeks also faintly pink.

"W-well," Len broke the silence, as his ponytailed hair blew along with the breeze (and he noticed how her ultramarine eyes snapped back from his hair to look at him), "y-you should sing more often!" And then he realized what he just said and flushed a deeper pink, looking down at the ground and hands gesturing to explain himself and his thoughtless words (but true, Len thought, they were true). He looked up from the hypnotizing sway of the grass blades and found a tiny sparkle of hope in her eyes, and then Len couldn't find an excuse anymore (because he simply couldn't extinguish that light so cruelly, and then again, he did want her to sing more).

"I like your voice," he said honestly, and Miku thought that she was going to melt like an ice cream (and it was strange, because the sun wasn't even that hot) because her legs were even wobblier than before, if that was possible. She ducked her head to stare at the grains of dirt on the ground, and whispered a "yes" that she wasn't sure he was able to hear, but he did, because Miku could feel his grin.

And then laughter erupted from her throat, because his hands were on her waist again, tickling her.

* * *

_The crane's wings had healed — it was time to release it — and I found myself dismayed (for no reason, really, except for maybe lingering affections for the little bird)._

* * *

Len was feverish and mumbling nonsensical words again. He tossed and turned in the futon, brows furrowing and fist clenching and unclenching.

Miku hurried to squeeze the cold water out of the white towel, and soaked the fabric in the small pot. She placed the towel over his forehead, sighing in relief when he stopped turning, slipping into a light sleep. Miku sat back on her hunches and observed him through worried eyes. Kaito had been over to visit a few days ago, when Len suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching his chest and fell to the ground unconscious, leaving Miku and Kaito shocked and dumbfounded and worried. He had woken up after a short while, skin looking deathly pale, and he even coughed up blood, but Len proclaimed that he was fine, and Miku believed that he had simply been a little...light-headed (at least, that was what she made herself believe).

But then he fainted again when they were out in the fields, harvesting the corn and she knew that something was wrong, something was making Len sick, and she didn't know what that _something _was, and it worried her to the point of upsetting her stomach. She wouldn't eat anything until Len got better, and even though she knew that was wrong to starve herself, she simply couldn't bring herself to worry about food when Len was lying here, sick and miserable. She knew that the fields needed harvesting, they needed tending, the laundry needed washing, and the house needed cleaning, but it all didn't matter, when the man in front of her was coughing himself to death.

"Miku..." She snapped out of her daze and bent over him, intent on hearing what he had to say. It made her heart ache when she heard his voice, raspy with disuse and sickness and phlegm and blood (where was the velvety voice she was familiar with? Where was the deep laugh she associated him with?), but she concentrated on his hazy eyes. She had always been good at deciphering one's eyes, after all. "Do you...remember when we met? It was five winters ago...wasn't it?" He coughed again, blood splattering against his hand that came up to cover his mouth.

And then tears slipped out of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks, crystals landing on his sizzling cheeks with a drip. The tears blurred her vision as she wiped his hand with another towel and the tears dripped into the wooden basin when they overflowed. Because yes, she remembered very clearly, and it just made everything hurt even more, because then was when everything was still fine and okay and Len didn't have this strange sickness. She had been cold and hungry, with only a flimsy cloak to shield her against the howling blizzard, when she fell over, unable to withstand the cold snow anymore, and he found her, brought her back into this humble abode, fed her, and clothed her. When spring came, Miku had felt it unacceptable to continue living in a stranger's house (not stranger anymore, after a long winter, but Miku forced herself to leave) and bade him farewell, leaving him along with the budding of new life.

(she wasn't sure he remembered, because she looked different from then and now)

But then she came back five winters ago, intent on repaying her debt to this man. She had arrived on his doorstep with a white cloak draped on her, and he had accepted her into his house (surprised, yes, but he seemed a little overjoyed as well). He had been kind and accepting, and never seemed angry at her for her leaving, but that didn't make the guilt in her heart go away (she never had a chance to repay him). Miku squeezed his hand, and as she soaked the towel in cold water again, she made up her mind.

* * *

_It was time for the bird to leave, since winter was going to be over, and I brought it out with me during one of my woodcutting expeditions._

* * *

She wove and wove, fingers working tirelessly at the wooden machine. The richly coloured cloth spilled out of the weave, along with the clickity-clacks of the wooden pieces working together. Miku rubbed her bruised fingers together, wincing when they made contact with each other. She stood up and smoothed out her new work — the silky cloth rippled under her fingers and Miku nodded, glad that this one came out good too. It would fetch for a high price, and then she could-she could-she could—

Miku turned and flitted through the screen doors, hearing his coughing (that worsened as time passed, she hated Time). There were still some medicine burning on the stove, and she quickly poured it into a bowl, footsteps ever quickening as she heard his coughing fits. Finally reaching after what felt like eternity, Miku slid open the doors and nearly retched at the smell of sickness, but she pulled herself together and pushed Len up. He complied with a groan (her heart nearly broke at the sight of his red eyes and bloodstained hands), and she tipped the bowl into his mouth, making sure that none of the precious medicine was spilled. "It's bitter," Len spat out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the side not stained with his own blood, and pouted. "I don't like it. Why do I have to drink this?" Miku sighed, used to his childish arguments, and her hand reached out to pet his own, but she remembered that she couldn't because of his sickness (and couldn't let him see her hands, too) and sighed again, retracting her hand. "I have to go out to buy some more medicine," and she saw Len nod out of the corner of her eyes before coughing (each cough squeezed her gut and squeezed her soul and Miku clutched her chest).

Miku slid the door close behind her and sighed, padding down the halls to go to the market. His condition was getting worse and worse, even though Miku had done her best to earn money. At the speed she was going, it just wasn't enough. The sum of money she earned from weaving only a piece of cloth every fortnight was just not enough, and she didn't know what to do. Silent tears running down her cheeks had her clenching the newly-woven cloth out of frustration (mostly at her ineptness and her dumbness and herself) and Miku decided that she would have to use more feathers, more than she ever had, if she wanted to heal Len.

But first, she had to hurry up and buy the medicine, because time was _tick-tock-tick-tocking _away while she sauntered around and Len's life was also _tick-tock-tick-tocking _away and _what was she still standing here for? _Miku hurried out of the house, berating herself for allowing even a fraction of a minute from Len's life to slip away.

(even though her life would probably also slip away from her grasp soon)

* * *

_The little bird stared at me with its dark ultramarine eyes._

* * *

Miku gritted her teeth and plucked a feather from her wings.

* * *

_I stared back sadly, and smiled, nodding to the sky once._

* * *

She ignored the pain and blood that blossomed, instead focusing on weaving the cloth (the best she'd ever woven, she was sure that this would be enough to cure Len).

* * *

_The crane inched its head toward me, its long neck curving gracefully._

* * *

She was finally done, the cloth finally sold, and now she had to get back to Len soon, because he had been coughing a lot more and she wasn't sure if he could hold out now —

* * *

_I stroked its head, marvelling its pure feathers for the last time._

* * *

The door was within reach (finally!) but then black patches invaded her vision and Miku could feel her body tipping over into the snow (_nononononowhataboutLen?)._

* * *

_The crane took flight into the clear spring sky, leaving me behind._

* * *

**Oh god that terrible writing and ending. *cringes* Even though I spent like a week on this. **

**I really have to get my writing back on track, or I'll lose touch with the dark part of my muse. ;u; **

**Trying out a new writing style, so please leave some reviews and feedbacks, nya! **

**_ON ANOTHER NOTE: HA I GOT 3000+ WORDS TAKE THAT MY LAZINESS HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! _  
**


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